Daggers
by RebeccaFoxx
Summary: Rose knew the creature called The Doctor would be dangerous, but she had no idea how dangerous he would be. After a near-death experience at his hands, she knows she has to have the full story. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**This fic is going to have some different imagery. The prompt basically stated that ten was a creature that would shred all who touched it, his skin as sharp as needles. He drove himself mad from wanting affection and a real relationship, his destructive nature finally getting the better of him. I just wanted to warn you about that before you started.**

 **Enjoy the story!**

* * *

There he was again.

His tall frame seemed to float down the London streets, barely visible in the thick fog rolling between the buildings. His caramel colored coat swung like a banner at his every movement, his impossibly dark eyes searching for something he would never find.

Rose Tyler trailed a block behind him, her jaw clenched tightly. She knew who he was, oh yes. She knew _what_ he was.

His hair bristled, a thousand needle-sharp points standing bolt upright atop his head. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, his breaths fogging up the air. He looked nearly normal, though the odd sway and bounce of his walk made him look just out of place enough to give off a weird vibe.

Not a single soul was in sight other than him.

Rose tightened her death grip on her gun, feeling the cool metal against her fingers. She quickened her step. Cold sweat dripped down her back. She took a deep breath, the cold air biting into her uncovered skin. The hand that wasn't holding anything shook profusely. She blamed the cold.

She was feet away from him now, and he hadn't yet turned around. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with his every breath.

She wanted nothing more than to make it stop.

He froze suddenly, catching her off-guard, his head jerking upright. His hands flew to his sides in a defensive stance. She fought not to cry out as he turned to face her.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Inhumanly.

He looked almost like a little lost puppy, but a glint in his eyes told her that this wasn't the case. Not this time.

She cocked the gun and pressed it against her cheek, prompting a sigh from the creature.

"Go ahead and shoot." He growled, his teeth wickedly sharp. "Just end it already." Fear rooted her to the spot, her finger toying with the trigger, but not pulling it. He blew out a breath from between his teeth. "Knew it."

"You're not in a position to be making demands, bastard." She snapped. He raised his eyebrows.

"Really?" He snarled. "I've got a gun pointed at my chest, and you're telling me what I can and can't do?" He took a step forward, drawing himself up to his full height. She staggered backward. He barked out a laugh, the sound chilling her to the bone. "You're the same as all the others. You threaten me with paper defenses, but you'll die all the same. You picked a bad night to try and do me in." His voice was acidic in nature, oozing into her head and making her feel anger she had never experienced before.

"I bet you don't even remember their names." The creature took another lumbering step forward. She could see dried blood coating its fingers.

"Don't you accuse me of forgetting!" She watched him closely, not letting the gun fall from her hands. "I remember all that die at my hands." Her heart pounded as he stepped forward once more, his steely eyes peering down at her in fury.

She took a few shaky steps backward. His gaze stayed trained on her the whole time, as if daring her to make a move, silently mocking her cowardice.

She wanted to bolt right then and there. This- This monster could have killed her at any point of their interaction, but it hadn't yet. She gripped that thought like a lifeline.

 _Remember why you took this case!_

A tiny voice piped up in the back of her head.

A cool breeze blew through her hair and she loosened her grip on the trigger.

"Tell me about Martha." She ordered. He visibly shrank, his shoulders falling slack. His fierce gaze faltered. The only sound was the wind howling in the deserted street. "Tell me, damn it!" She bit, fighting not to let her voice crack. "Tell me about my best friend!"

Anger flared in his eyes.

"Martha Jones didn't die!" He spat her name like it was poison in his mouth. "She was the only friend I had." He continued creeping closer as he spoke, allowing her to see all the cuts and slashes in his rumpled pinstriped suit. All the dried stains of blood clinging to his sleeves.

"Don't you dare call her your friend!" She barked.

"She was all that I had!" He pointed a finger at her. She inhaled sharply, knowing how deadly just one touch could be. He suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing. A growl of frustration tore from his lips.

He jerked his hand back, forcing it back into his pocket. The sound of fabric tearing accompanied the action. "I didn't want to hurt her." He nearly whimpered. "She understood. I made it clear that I didn't want her to touch me. So," He swallowed hard. "So she never did."

This wasn't what she was expecting. She didn't want to lower her guard, but he seemed- regretful. Scared even, but more than that- alone. She didn't want to ask, but the words seemed to be coming by themselves.

"What happened?"

"We were at a marketplace." He laughed bitterly again. "Usually try and avoid that kind of thing. I learned that the hard way." His eyes fell closed, another harsh breath hissing through his teeth. "It was going well. I was having a good time. She was too. I let my guard down."

When his eyes opened again, they were soulless. "She forgot my warmings. She tried to hold my hand." He visibly shuddered. "I-I," His voice broke. "I tightened my grip as a reflex. Her hand seemed right. And then, there was blood everywhere."

"And then you ran, didn't you?" He nodded.

"Her blood coated my hand. I could hear her screams over the noise of the crowd. I still do, sometimes."

"We managed to get to her before she bled out." His eyes flew open wide. Fear glinted in his brown irises.

"Did she-" Rose shook her head.

"She's still alive." She confirmed. He let out a long sigh. "She told me about you. She said that you wanted to stop being alone, but you didn't tell her what you were. You didn't tell her that if she touched you, she would be torn apart- literally." She locked eyes with the beast. "Now, what of Donna Noble?"

He was upon her before she could even cry out. Blood dripped from where his hand connected with her arm, his breathing rough and ragged. His face was mere inches from hers, his hot breath ghosting against her cheek.

He dug his hand deep into her shoulder, nearly connecting with bone. She could hear her muscles squelching as blood ran from her arm.

She pushed the gun against his chest.

"Off. Now." She commanded. He stared down at it with a dull interest.

"Never mention her name again, got that?" He rasped. He twisted her arm tightly, his needle-sharp grip ripping through her skin. She cried out in pain. He pulled her hair and drew her face close to his. "Don't you EVER ask me about Donna Noble. Don't you even breathe her name again. You don't deserve to." Spittle flew from his lips and struck her cheek. "HEAR ME?"

She nodded, and he let go, shoving her to the cold concrete. Warm blood pooled around her. All she could see was his lanky frame stalking away down the alleyway, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets like before.

"Wait." She croaked, trying to rise to her feet. He scowled down at her. His teeth gleamed like daggers. Blood dripped from his needle-sharp claws.

"Just close your eyes." He advised. "It'll be over sooner."

"Meet me tomorrow. Blue box chippy." She wheezed, gripping her shoulder as she staggered upright. "Four o' clock. Be there."

"You can't control me." His foot connected with her ribcage. She yelped in pain. "You can't even talk to me. YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM." He was shouting again, his shape actually fluctuating in the fog, blurring around the edges and becoming impossibly large. His eyes seemed to glow yellow. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH."

She fumbled for her walkie-talkie, jamming down the button, her fingers slick with her own blood.

"Badwolf reporting." She clutched it to her ear, hoping against all hopes that someone would answer.

"This is the impossible girl, report, Badwolf." Tears started to fall from her eyes.

"Mission partial failure. He was hostile. He attacked." Her friend's official tone instantly fell, and she could see her clutching the case file in her mind's eye.

"Shit, Rose." Clara's voice wavered. "How bad is the injury?" Rose grunted in pain.

"He tackled me. Everything burns. Losing blood fast." Her breathing was labored and loud. "He left."

"We're sending Martha. Hang tight." Ugly yellow spots danced across her vision.

"Clara?"

"What?" Her eyes followed his thin form as he continued walking.

"He wasn't hostile until I mentioned Donna. He just snapped." Clara didn't respond outright. The words had to sink in.

"And then he attacked?"

"Yeah." Her words came out as a wheeze. "Yeah, he kicked me a few times, too."

"Jesus," Clara mumbled.

"But, I did get information from him." He was nearly gone, his silhouette cloudy in the fog. "He didn't mean to hurt Martha. And he-" She took a deep breath. "He might meet me tomorrow. Blue box chippy at four."

"There's no way you're going to see him again, got that? Not alone."

"Clara, he'll attack again if I don't try and stop him. He didn't maul me outright. I've got a chance."

"It's too risky." Rose managed to lean against one of the buildings stretching around her. She could hear the siren of the Torchwood van ringing through the street and sighed in relief.

"She's here." She clicked off the walkie-talkie, silencing Clara's protests. She began to limp in the direction of the noise, holding one hand over her eyes when the headlights appeared down the street.

The van screeched to a halt in front of her, Martha leaping out before the vehicle had fully stopped. She practically collapsed into Martha's arms, the other woman quickly becoming covered in her coppery blood.

Rose, however, hardly noticed.

Because she could still see him lurking in the shadows, his wild hair blowing in the breeze. His icy gaze stayed trained on her, his lips quirked upward into a sick smile.

"C'mon. Let's get you fixed up." And then, he was gone.

* * *

He watched the van peal down the street, the bloodied human who had seemed to know so much about who he was disappearing around a corner. He could still hear her voice ringing in his ears, repeating the same phrase over and over again.

 _Be there._

He shook his head like an animal to try and banish the thought to a far corner of his mind, but it just got louder.

 _Four o' clock._

He looked down at his bloody hands and wiped them on his coat, leaving twin red smears down his sides. Why didn't he end her?

It wasn't like her throat wasn't exposed, one quick bite or touch would have done it, blood gurgling up from her throat and cascading down her chin. He growled in frustration, shoving one hand through his messy hair.

Her brown eyes had connected with something in him, and even though he didn't like it, he knew he'd end up at the chippy at four.

To discuss what, he didn't know.

Probably the humans who had died because he didn't tell them what he was until it was too late. Probably to discuss his best friend who had died in his arms.

He slumped next to a rubbish bin and put his head in his hands, drawing his knees up to his chest. His converses skidded on the cracked concrete.

 _Tomorrow._

He decided.

 _She dies tomorrow._


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome back to Daggers, folks! I hadn't really intended for this story to get this bloody long, but for those of you who are familiar with my writings, you know that my stories tend to take off without me, so there goes the dream of having this done for the thirty-first...**

 **Review if you liked it, favorite if you loved it!**

* * *

"Look at me," Martha ordered. "Take a deep breath, alright Rose?" Rose nodded, her tongue seeming too heavy to form words. Sharp daggers of pain dug deep into her shoulder whenever Martha attempted to clean the gaping tear in her flesh, fresh blood cascading onto her denim jacket, the poor thing now torn to shreds.

 _That could've been your throat if he had moved his hand over an inch._

Blood splattered onto the operating table she was slumped onto, staining the pristine white sheets with a coppery pattern resembling a failed attempt at a tye-dyed t-shirt.

She shuddered, sending a jolt of pain through her body. "Stay still!" Martha hissed.

"He almost killed me, didn't he?" She asked, her gaze low. Martha's hand hesitated.

"Yeah. You're lucky. Your arm gets to stay in place." The stump of what used to be Martha's left hand fell onto her knee. "I told you not to go after him." Rose gritted her teeth as Martha began to wind bandages around her shoulder.

"He killed Donna." The lively ginger still held a special place in her heart. From her fiery temper to her brilliant attitude towards her work, she was a true marvel in the office. Rose bit her lip as her brain began to play flashes of her mutilated corpse behind her eyes.

Huge slashes had decorated her pantsuit, a look of sheer terror in her still-open eyes.

"I know." Martha's voice jarred her back into reality. "And he nearly got you too." They lapsed back into a silence that was neither comfortable nor awkward, simply there, and seemingly unbreakable save for the background noises of Torchwood.

Blips from the heart-rate monitor. The grinding of machinery as Amy typed another mission report. Clara's nervous pacing. "He's dangerous, and sometimes, I think he forgets until... Until something happens." Her friend's stub of a hand was beginning to quiver. Rose gently placed her hand atop it.

"Hey. I'm back now, yeah?" She met Martha's eyes. "I made it back." Sweat beaded on the other woman's brow, her eyebrows pinched together with worry.

"You almost didn't." Her eyes quickly darted back to the sickening slit in Rose's flesh.

"But I did." Martha sighed.

"I know. And I'm thankful, but-" She hesitated.

"But what?" Rose prompted, the latter half of her sentence nearly lost in a growl.

"But you shouldn't have talked to him. He's dangerous. Promise me you won't go back." Rose bit her lip. Martha's eyes widened. "You can't honestly still want to help him!" Rose sighed, noticing that Clara's footsteps had stopped.

She closed her eyes.

"He didn't kill me." Amy's typing ceased. She could feel their concerned eyes on her back, practically hearing the glances they were sharing. "He seemed almost human."

"Rose, he mauled you." Martha's voice wavered. "He nearly killed you! There was so much blood pooled around you, I-" Rose kept her eyes closed as Martha's serious tone fell into something softer. "I didn't think we'd gotten to you in time."

A tight knot formed in her throat. All she could think about was the one call they hadn't managed to get to in time. The one teammate they had lost to this creature.

"You got to me. That's all that matters. I established a communication. That's what we wanted, right?" Martha sighed in an exasperated fashion.

"Of course we wanted to communicate, Rosie, but we didn't need you gettin' yourself hurt!" Amy piped up. "We love 'ya, but you need to be careful."

"Agreed." Clara still sounded distant, probably up to her nose in the file containing everything they knew about the half-crazed entity. Rose let her eyes open.

"Martha," She began peering in the direction of her maimed shoulder. "He didn't mean to hurt you." Martha's lips formed a thin line.

"I know. But he still did. He can't help it, Rose, it's in his nature. It's like a seal. They look cute, but they need meat. It's not their fault that they do it."

"So you're saying it's not his fault?" She couldn't hide the hope in her voice.

"No," Martha corrected, "I'm saying that it's a part of him. He has more control over his actions than a seal, but he is, in essence, an animal. He lashes out when he's scared."

She recalled his yellowed eyes and impossibly fast movements. The way his slim form expanded into something else.

 _Animal._

 _She has a point._

But-

What about his worry for Martha and her well being? What about his feral anger when she mentioned the one they couldn't save? What about the way he acted, the way he spoke, the way his eyes danced, the emotion his every word carried?

What about all of those things?

"He wasn't afraid of me." She swung her legs off of the table, ignoring the noises of protest from Martha. Her audience watched with a nervous anticipation. "I stuck the gun between his ribs and he told me to just end it. Does that sound afraid to you?" Martha responded by jabbing a needle just below the laceration.

She yelped in surprise, her fingers flying up to the needle reflexively.

"Painkiller," Martha explained, her voice apologetic. Rose sucked in a breath through her teeth.

"Right." The dull ache in her shoulder slowly eased off into a small prick right in the center. She shifted uncomfortably. "That's not too ba-" Her words suddenly turned into a yelp, a searing, fiery pain ripping through her arm from the middle of the wound.

Martha's face blanched. Shakily, she pulled back the gauze, letting it fall around Rose's shoulder.

"Shit."

Rose fought to keep her breathing under control, her heart thudding in her ears.

"What's wrong?" She wheezed as Martha dug into one of the neatly arranged drawers full of medical tools.

"Something's stuck in it!" Another gout of blood bubbled from the partially clotted rupture in her smooth skin. Amy leaned over Martha's shoulder and grimaced.

"How bad is it?" Rose choked out.

"Bad." Amy's voice sounded somewhat pained. "Worse than it was before." She could feel the blood leaving her body, her vision beginning to blur. She could feel that whatever it was was lodged right next to her bones. It wasn't going to come out without any pain, that was for certain.

 _Of bloody course._

"Pull it out." She hissed through grit teeth.

"Rose, it's going to be-" Rose silenced her with a glare.

"Just do it!" She ordered. Martha's fingers hesitated above the wound, her eyes connecting with Amy's. The scot nodded.

Torchwood's doctor swallowed hard and dug her hand into the wound.

Pain.

Searing, unforgiving pain shredded her shoulder. She swallowed a scream, her jaw locking in place, cords starting to stand out on her neck. Her chest heaved painfully as Martha continued to try and grip whatever had lodged itself in her flesh.

"Oh, God..." She could hear Amy muttering amongst mixed cuss words. "Oh God, oh flippin' God..."

She could feel new streams of blood beginning to flow freely, the soft pitter-patter of it hitting the protective sheet sounding oddly like rainfall.

She could hear Clara trying to compose herself and idly wondered if this hurt more than the actual mauling had.

The actual mauling, as far as she knew, was meant to inflict as much pain as was possible without actually killing her. It had been painful, but over quickly. Martha, on the other hand, was trying to be gentle. And although that was much kinder than what the creature had put her through, it was causing her to hesitate, her movements slower as she poked and prodded at the wound.

Martha's fingers closed around something and Rose cried out in shock.

"Got it?" She asked, her words lost in another yelp as the woman's hand shifted.

"Think so." Rose braced herself as she felt Martha's hand tense. It came suddenly, but that didn't make it seem any better, the pain intensifying as her skin fell back into place with a sickening squelch of a sound. Martha's hand fell limply to her side, coated in a coppery ooze.

Her breaths came in sharp gasps.

"What the hell is that?" Amy breathed. Rose fell forward with a groan, still clutching the bloody hole in her arm. She didn't want to look. She knew she'd have to eventually.

"Looks like a claw." Martha managed to say. She was deathly pale. Rose made herself look at what they had just torn out of her flesh.

It was about an inch in length and bone white, still dripping red, still needle-sharp. She didn't realize that she was shaking until Amy laid a hand on her shoulder. Her friend felt warm in comparison to the sheer cold shooting through her veins.

"It's over now, yeah?" Rose nodded numbly. Amy looked like she wanted to Now do us all a favor and let him get himself killed." Martha's eyes narrowed. Rose felt distinctly uncomfortable under her gaze.

"I'm goin' back." She growled, trying to haul herself to her feet. Martha pushed her back to the examination table.

"There's no way you're meeting up with him after what he did to you." She ordered. "Doctor's orders. No meeting up with a dangerous creature after it attacks you."

"He." Rose corrected. "He's a he. Not an it."

"Whatever." Amy snorted. "S'not like he'll show tomorrow anyway." Rose didn't respond to that, already knowing that none of her friends wanted her to go.

Not after-

She pushed the thought away, though she did add it to her list of reasons as to why she needed to see the creature again. He was going to pay for what he had done to Martha, and he was going to pay a thousand times that for stealing the life of one of their own.

Her arm was numb as Martha re-wrapped the bandages, the painkiller effectively pulling her focus away from the wound and allowing her to concentrate on other things.

"Can I see the claw?" She questioned. Martha delicately wiped it with a strand of gauze before handing it to her. Rose turned it over in her hands, a thin red line appearing when she let it slip and connect with her palm. She was suddenly struck with a rather alarming thought. "Martha, let me see your hand."

She wiggled her fingers in front of Rose, the glove still clinging to her skin.

"I'm fine." The glove she had worn was sliced to ribbons, but her hand was still intact. "Not losing another hand. I know how deadly his touch is."

 _We all know._

She wanted to say. But she didn't, still looking at the cause of all her pain. It didn't seem like much, not really. It shone with a glossy sheen, cruelly sharp. It was stained an ugly brown at the end and she found herself wondering if that blood was all hers. She felt sick to her stomach.

How many had died because of this very claw?

"D'ya think it hurt him?" Amy asked, her voice low, green eyes fixated on the white shard. "This is our first sample, he hasn't left anything behind before." Martha nodded.

"It's possible." She admitted. "But we need to run a few tests on it. Maybe we can figure out how to stop him killing." Rose tentatively put some weight on her arm, swinging off of the table with a thud. She rested against Amy's side with a groan.

"How the hell am I supposed to explain this to my Mum?" Martha and Amy both averted their eyes.

"Make something up." Clara reasoned. "Or tell the truth. Up to you, really." Rose couldn't suppress an eye roll.

"I'll think of something." Martha gently began to guide her to the door.

"You need to get some sleep." Rose sighed heavily, pulling away from her friend.

"I'm still going tomorrow. I know you all think this is a bad idea, but I can't let him keep killing. Not like he did to-" She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. "She wouldn't have wanted us to kill him." Silence rang in her ears. She was just about to stalk through the doors when-

"Rose, wait." She turned around to face Amy. The normally fiery eyes of the ginger were subdued in tone. She shimmied out of her pink hoodie and handed the mess of fabric to Rose. "Might not want to look like that when you stroll into your Mum's flat."

* * *

"Where the 'ell have you been?" Rose had barely gotten two steps into the door when Jackie began to pepper her with questions. She didn't have the energy to respond, kicking off her shoes in the door and making for the sitting room.

Her Mother tailed behind her in hot pursuit. "You disappear like that late at night, and then you come home at two in the flippin' morning! I've been up worrying, worrying that you'd gotten killed, that I was goin' to get a phone call sayin' that you were in the hospital!"

She ducked her head and pulled at the sleeves of the borrowed hoodie. Her shoulder itched profusely under the bandage. "Say something! C'mon, Rose." She made eye-contact with Jackie, noticing that all of the accusations had drained out of her icy blue eyes.

"I'm alright, just got a little roughed-up, that's all." Jackie didn't seem convinced. Her eyes narrowed, hands falling to her hips.

"Take off Amy's hoodie."

 _Shit_.

Rose's heart dropped in her chest. Martha had done a good job at cleaning up the wounds, but the marks left by the beast's hands were still clearly visible, red and bloodied handprints trailing the length of her shoulder blade and upper arm.

"Mum, it's nothing." She knew that she sounded like a whiny teenager. She honestly didn't care.

"Then let me see!" She slumped across the couch with a moan, wincing as a pillow struck her torn flesh. Jackie's eyes widened. "What happened to you?" Her voice had taken on a softer tone, but Rose was hearing none of it.

"It's better if you don't see it. It looks worse than it is." She confessed, already knowing that she'd lost the argument.

"Rose." Jackie sat down next to her, being careful not to bump her arm.

"You shouldn't look." She mumbled, but Jackie was already rolling the sweater up and over her head. Rose squeezed her eyes shut tight as the comforting material was tugged away from her, already knowing what her Mother would think.

The sweater fell to the floor.

"Oh my God..." A hot flush of shame washed over her. She didn't even have to look up to know that her Mother was absolutely horrified.

"Don't take off the gauze. Martha was strict about that."

"Wasn't plannin' on it," Jackie mumbled, her tone forced. "What happened to you?" Tears started to fall from her eyes again.

"Got attacked." Jackie continued to inspect the gash, or, what she could still see of it, dried blood clinging to the bandages in the shape of the creature's hands. "Went out on a call. Anonymous tip, said they'd seen him."

She didn't have to explain what she meant by 'him'.

"And you went alone." Rose nodded, sniffling slightly as more tears continued to fall.

"I had to. I figured I'd just put a bullet through his brain and end it. Once and for all."

"But you didn't." Jackie finished.

"But I didn't." She agreed, laughing without humor. It sounded almost like his bark of noise. "He seemed human at first. We talked about Martha and her very distinct lack of a hand." The flat suddenly seemed claustrophobic, the four walls closing in on her at a speed that she didn't think was possible. She blinked a few times to try and get her bearings.

Jackie hung onto her every word, the overhead light illuminating her frazzled features. She truly did look like she'd been up all night. A tight knot of guilt formed in her gut. "I mentioned-"

 _"Don't you even breathe her name again. You don't deserve to."_

All she could see in her head was his fearsome snarl, his lips drawn back to reveal razor sharp teeth.

 _"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT_ I'VE _BEEN THROUGH."_

She blinked back tears. "I mentioned her." She finally croaked. "Please don't make me say her name." Jackie placed her hand over Rose's reassuringly.

"I won't, sweetheart. Promise."

"I mentioned her an' he jus' lunged at me. Just like that, he was on top of me." She swallowed hard, the itching intensifying and turning into a stinging burn. "Diggin' his hand in and jus' shouting at me. Tellin' me I didn't deserve to talk about her anymore."

"Bullshit." Jackie hissed. "You have more than every right to talk about her."

"I know." She pulled her feet up onto the couch. "I really need some sleep." Jackie smiled softly.

"You do that." Rose let her eyes fall shut, murmuring a quick:

"Wake me at two-ish." Before sleep pulled her under.

She wished it was a dreamless sleep.

His hands reached for her, and all she could do was watch as he loomed ever closer, leering down at her with blazing yellow eyes. A grin crept across his face.

She could see every last jagged tooth protruding from his gums.

"Looks like I've already gotten you once." He purred, kneeling next to her and lazily trailing his hand up her leg. Her skin split like butter under a knife. She whimpered softly. "Oh, shut up." He growled. "Not like you matter anyway." He hummed happily at the constant flow of blood running from her leg.

His tongue touched the back of his teeth. "I'm going to enjoy this." He drawled. She knew she was dreaming, but she couldn't get herself to wake up. She couldn't wrench herself back into reality as he went for her other leg. "This really is brilliant."

"Stop." She managed. His eyes flashed.

"What are you going to do?" He taunted, still slicing her, his fingers connecting with bone. Even though she couldn't feel the pain, it made her want to cry out. She realized that she was shaking and idly wondered if her Mother would wake her up.

She sincerely hoped so.

He stiffened almost as if he had had an idea, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile that chilled her to the bone. "Well?" He prompted, sinking his hand into her ribcage. "What are you going to do?"

She coughed, blood dribbling from between her lips. He wiggled his fingers, a sickening squelch of noise accompanying the action. She was about to scream.

His whole face lit up as her mouth fell open.

So she clamped it shut again, blowing out a long shuddering breath. She wasn't going to let him know how terrifying he was. He stuck out his lower lip in a boyish pout. He had clearly wanted her to scream.

His claws sank deeper into her chest. "I guess you aren't going to do much of anything." His fingers formed a fist. "No matter."

Blood ran in rivers from the hole where her ribs should be. She could hear them snapping in his grasp. "I'll enjoy this anyway."

A pressure suddenly formed on her chest, a near burning pain searing through her. She tried to get her heavy limbs to move, frantic to get away from the weight on her ribs.

"You can't hurt me!" She could taste the blood in her mouth, that metallic, back-of-your-throat tang making her feel sick to her stomach. "You're not real!"

And then, she was awake, and he was gone. She took a few shaky breaths, cold sweat pouring down her back. Her Mother's worried face peered down at her.

"Rose, love, you alright?" Rose tried to sit up, Jackie quick to push her back onto the couch. Her shoulder began to throb again.

"Jus' a dream." She reassured her, shifting into a sitting position.

"How's your shoulder?" Rose looked over at the bloodied handprints on her side with a shudder.

"Throbs." She admitted, slowly rising to her feet, her legs nearly giving out on her. "I'll live." Not a word was spoken as she paced into the kitchen, bracing herself heavily on the countertop. A small amount of sunlight filtered through the window, catching a few particles of dust in the light. Her gaze slowly drifted to the stove clock.

 **3:30**

She suppressed the urge to groan. She heard Jackie heave a sigh behind her.

"Didn't want to wake you. You need your rest." She pulled Amy's hoodie from where it rested on a kitchen chair and wrapped it around her waist.

"I've got to meet someone." She mumbled, plodding to the bathroom to change her bandages. "Don't wanna be late." She gazed at her own reflection for a moment, nearly laughing at how bloody disheveled she looked, blonde hair in shambles.

"Date?" Jackie prompted. Rose bit her lip.

"Yeah." She lied, "It's a date. Met a bloke last night before..." She fought to keep herself from confessing. "Well, you know." Jackie shot her a tight-lipped smile.

"Let's get you fixed up. What time did you say you were meeting him?"

* * *

He couldn't believe he was actually going. The situation practically screamed that it was a trap, that he was going to be thrown into another bloody lab or shipped off to area fifty-one, but somehow, he almost wanted to test and see if it was a trap. To see if she actually was trustworthy.

He growled in frustration and pulled at his hair.

 _Remember what happened the last time you trusted a human!?_

A voice screeched in his head.

 _Because I do!_

He wished it would shut up. It wasn't like he actually planned on staying long. Maybe he'd answer a few questions before suggesting that they go on a walk. She wouldn't last five seconds under his hands, dead before she could cry out.

 _Just like-_

"Shut up!" He snapped, responding as though the thought hadn't come from inside of his head. "I'm going!" And just like that, his mind was made.

He rose to his feet, staring down at the rips and tears in his outfit. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his chipped fingernail brushing up against his nose and making him hiss in agitation.

 _Blue suit._

 _Maroon shoes._

Those weren't as tarnished as the brown and blood would less noticeable on the darker fabric. He pulled on the lapels of his coat before beginning to walk, dragging the toes of his shoes. If his weirdly accurate sense of time was right, he had roughly half an hour to get ready and find the place. For all he knew, she hadn't survived his attack in the alley. There had been an awful lot of blood dripping from her shoulder onto the sidewalk. She may have just keeled over on the operating table. That would make his job so much easier.

His breath clouded up the air and he stuck his hands deep into his shredded pockets, humming absently to himself as he disappeared around a corner. The morning mist nearly disguised the yellow flash of light that lit his eyes with a predatory gleam.


End file.
